


Distance

by BirdMonster



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdMonster/pseuds/BirdMonster
Summary: Owain struggles with morality and doubt after arriving in the past but is able to find solace in a certain old friend of his.





	Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece I did for tumblr user fefanandowainlover for the Nagamas gift exchange!

Owain couldn’t get the image out of his head.

It was a bandit-- a dangerous one brandishing an axe at a vendor. He couldn’t have just stood there doing nothing, he had to protect the innocent. And so, yelling his usual spiel about justice, he dashed at the bandit with his sword. It was quick-- just a few screams of pain from the detractor before he fell to the ground, unmoving. 

Owain wasn’t punished. He was praised, in fact. The vendor offered him some money, but he wouldn’t take it. He was offered free merchandise instead.

“Surely you must take something!” insisted the vendor. “You saved my life and my shop!”

But he just couldn’t accept a reward for what he had done.

That bandit was terrible for sure-- who knows how many lives he had taken in the past? Owain heard rumors about this bandit. How no one seemed to be able to beat him or stave him off. He had been terrorizing the village for months. 

But he was still human.

Owain had ended a mortal life.

Fighting the risen in the future was always terrifying-- at the beginning, it felt disgusting and wrong. But it was what they all had to do to survive. Gradually, Owain became desensitized to it. They were already dead, he was doing nothing wrong by protecting himself and the people he loved from them. Even if the risen had a familiar face-- even if it hurt to cut down the image of someone he once knew-- they were already gone and there was nothing he could do to change that. Even he couldn’t blame himself for being the cause of their final resting.

But that bandit was human.

Humans all had families and people who loved them, didn’t they? He tried to rationalize with himself that it was all right-- the bandit was horrific and fighting him was no different from facing the risen.

But his rational thought never broke through his emotions.

He counted them all in the beginning. Five, then ten, then twenty, then thirty. Somewhere around forty, he began to lose track. Had it been forty-two or forty-three? By fifty, the number was blurred completely.

_ How many people have I killed? _ he wondered to himself. Every single battle only left him feeling more haunted by the thought. Being wrapped up in the number of humans he had ended the lives of, he had lost track of time as well. He figured it had been about two years since then-- two years since he jumped through the portal with his friends only to emerge alone in an unknown place. He traveled far and wide since then, working as a mercenary to get by, but there was never any trace of the people he grew up with.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, he ran into his uncle Chrom. He was ecstatic-- after all this time, he finally got somewhere! He finally found who he was looking for and could continue on with his goal. But it wasn’t long until his optimism faded. He wouldn’t show it, of course, but constant battle was draining. It wasn’t much different from when he was alone. More and more lives were added to his kill-count and he had long since lost all hope of ever figuring out what number he was on.

Even still, there were a few moments of solace after he found the Shepherds-- that much he could revel in. Inigo, at least, was already with them when he joined and quickly became the thing that grounded him. The person that proved to Owain that he was real-- his memories were real-- and that he was still alive. Their moment of being reunited would forever be burned as a happy one in Owain’s mind.

“Over-dramatic as always, eh Owain?” said a voice behind him as he fought alongside the Shepherds for the first time. Startled, Owain whirled around, sword drawn and pointed in the direction of the voice. Upon seeing Inigo standing there, arms raised yet a smile on his face as if he hadn’t just been threatened, Owain’s eyes widened. “Easy there, old friend. It’s just me!”

After staring in disbelief for what felt like forever, Owain smirked and straightened his stance, lowering his sword. “If it isn’t my archrival,” he greeted. “I knew we were fated to meet again.”

They hardly had the time for any further banter, but Inigo stayed by his side for the rest of the battle. They fought together like old times-- like distance had never come between them.

 

* * *

Whenever he had been upset after that, Owain found himself seeking out Inigo. The other was often out at night and at various other intervals throughout the day, but Owain was somehow always able to find him. Whether the other was practicing his dancing or fighting or was simply sitting alone in a clearing for some peace, Owain could find him.

Inigo often complained about this. “It’s embarrassing that you keep finding me like this!” he would say. His face was the most red when he was found during dance practice.

But Inigo was the same way-- whenever Owain was busy, the other managed to seek him out. “You’re just here to make fun of me again!” Owain would say.

But despite their complaints, they spent a significant amount of time together. Inigo was the only thing able to take Owain’s mind off the guilt, it seemed. Not only that, but his old friend was the only one willing to spend extended amounts of time around him. Owain’s constant boisterous storytelling and flourishing poses were often too much for the other soldiers to handle for more than a few minutes at a time. That or the others never seemed to take him seriously, causing Owain to leave upon his own accord after being inflicted with the right amount of ridicule.

 

* * *

Owain was constantly haunted by his past, but he didn’t want anyone to know. His stories and his poses were meant to boost his confidence-- to convince not only others that he was all right, but to convince himself as well. Yet when it came down to being alone with his thoughts, his kill-count always seemed to float back to the front of his mind. It never truly went away, like the ache of a broken bone that hadn’t properly healed. The way he saw it, the more people who knew about his daunting thoughts, the more real the terrible feeling would become. 

It was different around Inigo. He wasn’t really sure why. Owain felt comfortable talking ‘normally’ around him, as if there was no need to hide. 

There was one night his memories were being especially persistent. During a festival, no less. Aside from needing to clear a few risen here and there, it was supposed to be a fun and relaxing time for them all. Inigo had been by his side during the battles as he usually was. At that point, Owain couldn’t imagine fighting without him. 

Something about the darkness of the night contrasting with the festival lights made him feel rather melancholy and he didn’t know what to do with the feeling. All he knew was that Inigo was right there…

“How many people have you killed? Since coming to this time period.” Inigo seemed to be taken aback by the question Owain had posed. Owain himself wasn’t quite sure why he had gotten so serious-- it felt as if something terrible was bubbling up in his chest. Something painful that he had to let out before it continued to grow. And all things considered, Inigo had always felt safe.

Their conversation went on for awhile. It turned out Inigo didn’t remember his kill-count either. Owain felt as if he was lost in a sea of darkness. Not even the bright festival lights could help-- they only made him feel like he was sinking deeper. Inigo’s words were the only thing keeping  him afloat. His friend continuously reiterated to him that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn’t alone.

“We’re all in this together, Owain,” he said. “We’ve all lost people dear to us. We can try to put on a brave face, but those memories will always bubble up… Today just happened to be your day of doubt.”

After those words, Owain started to feel much better. In that moment, he realized that Inigo really understood. That he truly wasn’t alone. Not as long as Inigo was with him.

“... Hey, Inigo?”

“Hm?”

“Sorry for the strange questions and self-doubt today,” Owain concluded. “If you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll always be willing to listen.”

Inigo responded with a friendly jab to which Owain rebutted with offense, but it was only Inigo’s way of lightening the mood. Inigo had a knack for lightening the mood, after all-- Owain could always count on him and he sincerely hoped Inigo felt the same.

 

* * *

The war ended. It felt as if it had gone on forever, but it finally came to a close. They had won. Owain didn’t know what this meant for him. Of course, he was happy. Thrilled himself and his allies were able to accomplish something so great. But as the rush of enthusiasm began to die down, he came to realize that he still had no idea what he was going to do from then on out. It was something he had been struggling with for quite some time-- he recalled talking about it with Brady at the same festival in which he had his conversation with Inigo. At that time, Brady had invited him to be his songwriter-- should he go with that? He did love writing, after all, and the thought of his stories being portrayed through music was a wonderful thought indeed. 

But what about Inigo? Owain couldn’t help but wonder what the other was going to do. It was easy enough to guess that his old friend would travel around like his mother did, performing in different cities and continents. It sounded like a wonderful life-- like something Inigo would be happy doing-- yet Owain felt terribly lonely at the thought. Surely Owain himself would be better off as a songwriter. What could he possibly do to help Inigo with his endeavors when all he had were words?

The more he thought about it, the more it began to gnaw at his chest. He started to feel even more lost than before. His choices were helping Brady and having an outlet for his own creativity, or to uselessly follow Inigo and fade into the background. It felt terribly out-of-character when he realized he was leaning towards the latter. Owain just simply couldn’t imagine a life without Inigo by his side after everything they had been through.

It wasn’t until Inigo brought up the subject himself that Owain knew for sure what his decision would be.  

“You’re going with Brady?” Owain inquired with a blink. “Really?”

“Yes! The two of us made a promise, after all. I would carry on my mother’s dreams through my dancing and he would do the same for his own mother through his violin. It only makes sense that we would perform together, doesn’t it?”

Owain had to agree. “I’ll go with you!” he was quick to announce.

It was Inigo’s turn to blink at him in surprise. “You will?”

“Of course! Brady invited me to be his songwriter! Besides, how could I leave my destined arch-rival unattended? Gods know I couldn’t possibly fall behind, but what’s the point if you don’t see my progress consistently surpassing yours yourself?”

“Oh-- I see,” Inigo responded with a smirk. He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between himself and Owain. “I guess that means I’m stuck with you and your unrelenting sword hand for awhile longer then, eh?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed-- you know you can’t function properly without me in your presence! Who else will keep you disciplined? Surely not yourself-- you’d simply run off after every girl you saw and fall out of practice.”

“I feel like you’re the one we should be more concerned about. Who’s the one who always skips practice to play by himself in the forest again?”

“That  _ is _ practice, I’ll have you know! A warrior of my caliber has no time for playing.”

Inigo let out a laugh. “Whatever you say, Owain. Really, though, I was hoping you would join us. Brady was saying something about the invitation he extended you and I prepared a whole speech to convince you to come. Looks like I didn’t need it, after all.” 

“Heh,  _ you _ preparing a speech for  _ me _ ?” Owain laughed.

“It does sound a bit backwards, doesn’t it? But I hope you take this as a token of how much I care about you.”

“What token? You didn’t even speak a line of it!”

“It’s the thought that counts!”

The two of them had a laugh before deciding they should start getting ready to set out.

 

* * *

 

Owain couldn’t get the image out of his head.

Him and Inigo, performing side by side. It brought a homely warmth to his chest-- it made him feel as if everything really was going to be all right. Inigo had the tendency to make him feel safe, after all. To make him feel grounded and real. And now, after all the uncertainty of the future had finally passed, there would no longer be the worry of distance again falling between them. He could settle down with his old friend as they lived out their dreams. 

Together.


End file.
